


cardboard lined with silk

by breathingvacancy



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood and Gore, Comfort/Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7559317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathingvacancy/pseuds/breathingvacancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juleka has grown accustomed to the nights when screams blast outside their refuge like biting winds. In this world all they can afford to do is protect each other, promise each other a tomorrow in shaky breaths as they hide under the screams of strangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cardboard lined with silk

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not entirely sure what compelled this.
> 
> title from please just stay dead by nicole dollanganger.

Juleka has grown accustomed to the nights when screams blast outside their refuge like biting winds. Her Rose, sweet, kind Rose, has only recently stopped fighting her to go out to help whomever's lungs they sprung from. Juleka is not proud to recall the last night Rose tried to be a hero, the first and only night she'd ever hit the smaller girl as her own desperate screams strangled themselves on the very edge of her lips. 

It's not like Juleka could blame her for wanting to help. In another world, in a world where they were better prepared for the end of everything and they had guns instead of shovels and flamethrowers instead of wrenches, Juleka would've leapt to help herself. But in this world all they can afford to do is protect each other, promise each other a tomorrow in shaky breaths as they hide under the screams of strangers. 

Tonight when the screams wane to the punctuation of powerful crunches, the grim echo of bones beneath dead jaws, Juleka rolls over to face Rose. Also awakened by them, Rose gazes upon her with weary eyes. She reaches without a word and tucks some of Juleka's hair behind her ear. 

"Let me braid it," she murmurs. 

Juleka nods, blanket sliding down her legs as she sits up. Rose sits as well and unties one of the ribbons around her wrist. Using the moonlight that streams in from the skylight window, she delicately parts Juleka's hair. 

"When we're looking for supplies tomorrow, I'll keep an eye out for purple dye." 

Juleka huffs a laugh and idly touches her faded bangs. "Do you really think we'll find any?" 

"Eventually," Rose hums, her voice all petals of positivity as she pointedly begins weaving Juleka's tresses into a braid. 

"Maybe we could keep an eye out for new clothes too," hums Juleka. "Good ones." 

"I wonder if those jeans I wanted are still on the rack at the _Butterfly Boutique_." 

"If there aren't too many of them around, we could go check it out," Juleka tells her almost like she thinks it's possible. 

Shopping malls are a prime feeding ground for them. Or, shopping malls  _were_ a prime feeding ground in the beginning anyway. Juleka isn't sure why so may of the undead linger in the places now mostly decorated with skeletons rather than populated. She supposes they're just too brainless to leave. They don't seem to think, exactly. They just seem to respond to things. Interact with everything like ravenous rabid animals without any cognition involved, no matter how human they had been at one point. 

In a way it reminds her of the akuma that were around so long ago, too long ago, people infected by negativity and spreading chaos like a plague. But unlike the undead, akumatized people were still people. All it took was good intentions and a pair of heroes to fix everything. Not for the first time, Juleka wonders if Ladybug and Chat Noir are staggering around somewhere; groaning and snapping and eyeless. 

"All done," Rose announces softly.

Juleka turns around and gently presses her lips to Rose's cheek. Rose kisses the corner of her mouth in kind, eyes glimmering almost ethereally under the silvery glaze of the moon. The screams are gone now and when they lie back it's in each other's arms. 

 

* * *

 

The momentum Juleka puts behind the swing of her shovel cracks its exposed skullcap. It breaks inwardly with a sound like kicking a rotten pumpkin and the undead drops to the floor leaking maroon fluid she hesitates to call blood. Panting, Juleka wipes her brow with her forearm. 

She doesn't notice the one behind here until she hears Rose's fleet steps slapping the floor. Rapidly whirling out of the way, she gapes openly as the end of Rose's crowbar smashes into a putrid face full of wriggling maggots. Some fly off as the ghoulish creature topples. It's till twitching. Before it can get up Rose strikes it again. It jerks once and then falls slack. 

"Thanks," Juleka breathes.

Rose nods, mouth tight and eyes narrowed in focus as she struggles to free her weapon. Juleka helps her and they carry on, wiping that maroon fluid off on their pants. This is why they need new clothes. And towels. Oh, towels would be _so_ nice. 

Food is the number one priority, however. 

There isn't too much left to pick from in this convenience store but it was their safest bet. The undead aren't quite as active during the day and they're slow as snails. Their danger lies in their numbers and their spontaneity. Hordes are more frequent than the strays and where the strays are, the hordes aren't far behind. 

Juleka guards the door while Rose combs through knocked over shelves and broken coolers. 

One of them spies her, breaking off from its stumbling cluster to head for the store entrance at an interested pace. Its jaw stretches and snaps, festered lips peeled back and vacant eyes staring. Juleka readies her shovel and drives it forward just when the undead gets close to lunge. The blade of her shovel shears through its throat and a gush of maroon sprays. The sunken skin around the wound flaps as it snaps for Juleka again, still animated. 

Teeth clenched, Juleka hits it with the broad side. It totters against the doorframe and she drives her shovel forward again. Another thick rush of maroon. Its head is mostly detached at this point, mere threads still connecting it to the spine. A third sharp drill of the shovel and it's decapitated, head bouncing to the floor. Its teeth clack as it tips facedown. 

Juleka shudders.

"Are you okay?" Rose asks from behind, only loud enough for Juleka to hear so as to avoid attracting any more of them. 

"Yeah. How's the shopping coming?" 

"We've got a dented can of beets and some magazines." 

"Is that it?" Juleka questions, hoping this quest doesn't take any longer than it has to. Her adrenaline had reached its peak and now it tapers off, dwindling drop by drop. 

"I want to check for signal at the back," replies Rose. "I won't be long." 

"Okay," Juleka agrees.

The magazine rack squeaks as Rose scurries past it. In the bedlam out of the outbreak Rose had managed to keep her phone. It was a sturdy phone too, didn't shatter like Juleka's did when it fell to the ground. The battery would work if Rose took it out, kept it in a cool place for a little while, and slid it back in. Every time they went out, she looked for signal. 

"Who will you call even if it does work?" Juleka had puzzled when Rose first proposed this idea. 

It wasn't as though the police would come save them. 

"Prince Ali," Rose had answered with a chew at her melon pink lip that had not gone unnoticed. "I still have him as a contact. And I think he's bound to be okay, Juleka. He's royalty. His palace must have a strong security system and the infection might not have spread in the Achu Kingdom the way it did here. He'll help us if I call him, I know he will." 

Of course he would. Princes were equivalent to saviors in all the bowdlerized fairytales Rose held tucked into the chambers of her heart, beloved things Juleka sometimes had to remind herself she didn't have to compete with. Never mind that having a fancy security system hadn't saved Chloe, or Adrien, or Juleka's own aunt Adelaide whom her late parents had hysterically tried to seek refuge with.

However, Juleka hadn't said any of that. She'd swallowed it like a bitter bar of soap and smiled wanly. She doesn't regret it either.

Looking for signal gives them something else to do, a bigger goal a bit brighter than just surviving to nightfall. It gives them a reason to move on and not stay in the same place long enough to go mad. Juleka doesn't find as much hope in it as Rose does, but she does find motivation. 

Another pair of undead shuffle into her sight, one's bent leg a revolting cavern of bloated green mush with the bone stark and protruding. The other must be freshly dead because its bloody clothes and foaming maw are the only visible signs that it isn't a person anymore. Juleka holds her breath and tightens her grip on the shovel until it hurts. 

Luckily they move on without noticing her, the distance broad enough and their senses dull enough while the daylight shines. 

"I couldn't get any bars," Rose exhales, returning disappointed but not discouraged. 

"Maybe next time." Juleka offers a smile. 

Rose hums agreement and together they take their leave.

Neither of them have ever liked beets, but tonight they're so delicious it's nothing to point at the dent in the can and joke about botulism.

 

* * *

 

Rose collects the magazines and the newspapers so she can have projects when they can't go outside or accomplish anything else productive. 

She meticulously pulls out the staples and folds the pages into boats. She can't make paper planes that aren't too crooked to fly no matter how haw she tries. And she does try, she'll put her all into crafting a plane and concentrate so hard one of her eyes winks closed and her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth. Sadly all of her focus amounts to sideways paper planes unable to soar. Planes aside, she can make one hell of a paper boat. 

Rose's paper boats are neat, symmetrical, and crisp at the edges. Her paper boats can float and bob even in the wind without tipping over and Juleka admires their intricate simplicity. Juleka can make mediocre paper boats. Her boats are better than Rose's planes but they're still mediocre boats. Juleka's can stay upright for a minute or two, while Rose's could weather a small storm. 

Juleka's paper planes on the other hand, are narrow, creased keenly, and even. They can loop twice when she pushes them to flight just right, index finger and thumb pinched with a smooth flick of the wrist. 

So Rose makes the boats and Juleka makes the planes. Always.

Together they make snowflakes, spiderwebs, collages, and cutout hearts. They'd both like to attempt papier-mâché and briefly quarreled about what they'd craft if they ever did acquire the supplies. Juleka wanted to make a gremlin while Rose wanted to make a cat. They agreed on a vampire bat with a bow, should the day ever come. 

There's one more art form Juleka replicates with the newspapers and prettier magazine ads. Origami. The designs on the paper her dearly departed Baa-Baa Hanae had used ranged from ornate to lively, patterns to flowers. She recalls being taught by her fondly, chest warmed but eyes stinging. Such is life. 

The tabloids and the newsprint don't measure up to the decorated paper but they're all she has. Juleka relays to Rose what her grandmother instilled in a much tinier her, the legend of the _senbazuru_.

If they make one thousand paper cranes and string them, the gods will grant them a wish. Rose shines as she speaks, gazing at Juleka as though it's stardust falling from her lips instead of a story quite possibly as dead as the fingers that claw the outside walls. Rose is as spellbound by the legend as she'd been by all her beloved fairytales. 

"I'll help you," she promises Juleka with a passionate sincerity that makes the words ring like wedding vows. "You can fold them and I'll tie the string through all of them. We'll find a ladder somewhere and hang our thousand cranes too high up for any of them to reach." 

Juleka is honey in hot tea, melting with love even in this despairing corner of the world's ashes.

"Yeah," she affirms affectionately. "Our wish will have to come true then." 

Their wishes might even be too different to count as one and Juleka isn't sure the legend permits a two for one price at all, but Juleka tucks her smile into Rose's clavicle and Rose's hands find her own. 

 

* * *

 

"No signal," Rose announces at the end of today's venture to a hunting and tracking store. 

The guns are all long gone but fishing line for their cranes makes it worth the trip. 

Juleka tries to tiptoe between the shards of the shattered windows, making as little noise as possible. She doesn't see any of the wretched fallen but none in sight doesn't indicate absence. 

"Is there anything else we should take, Juleka?" Rose lowers the phone and waves her index finger uncertainly over the meager remnants of supplies. "There are a couple of fishing poles that could come in handy. I know camouflage doesn't suit either of us and those shirts are much too big, but still...they're shirts." 

"I'm not sure where we'll fish," Juleka says doubtfully. They move on every few days and at some point they could come across a stream but Juleka doesn't like the idea of staying out in the open long enough to try to catch something. They also have to travel as light as possible. They can't have too many things slowing them down precisely because they always have to move on. 

"How about the shirts?" Rose asks. "They look hot but we could cut the sleeves off." 

Juleka should be grateful for any clothing that will relieve her from the uncomfortable grime every article of her limited wardrobe has come to collect. She's almost used to the grit and stickiness against her skin, she's long since gone nose blind to her own odor. Nonetheless, she grimaces at the image of herself donning oversized camo.

"We should take them," Juleka agrees despite herself. 

Rose gathers the three shirts that are left rumpled in a box and adds the rolls of fishing line. The box makes it easier to carry and she does just that, following Juleka's lead and tiptoeing around the glass.

They swiftly cut through the block on their way back to their current shelter, an unlocked van with tires pancake-flat. 

They're only two fences and a lefthand curve from getting back safely when a trio of decaying faces dispels any false sense of security that may have taken root. Juleka whips her shovel free of its makeshift sheathe around her back and pelts toward the closest of them. Its bowels fall from its yawning belly like slimy ropes, dragging as it leaps for her. She whacks its outstretched arms aside and it tilts unbalanced.

She raises the shovel high above her head to bring the killing blow and— falters when a vice traps her ankle. One of them is on the ground with twisted fingers clamped viciously. Its trying to hold her in place as its snapping maw draws closer. Harried gasp scraping up her throat, Juleka redirects her aim and smashes the shovel down on the undead below. There's a crunch as its head dents.

Its grip drops slack but the one upright before Juleka lunges. Its yellow teeth clamp a mere hairsbreadth from her cheek, this fetid stench flooding her like vomit in reverse. The grotesque creature body slams her and she's sent sprawling. Its trailing innards slither over her torso as it throws itself down overtop and bites at her throat. Juleka thrusts her hands out, holding it off with less than seconds to spare. Her fingers curl into its eye sockets, one lightless sphere puncturing like a spoiled tomato.

Sticky fluid streams down its face. Its other eyeball pops right out under the snag of her curved digits and plops to her chest. She pushes with all her might and a moan dredges up from the undead's tongue. It shakes its head like a dog, mouth stretching so wide Juleka can see its blackened uvula as it prepares to bite again. 

A wrench cracks into its temple once, twice, three times until it topples off of Juleka entirely. Rose grips the wrench tight along her forearm and puts all her strength behind striking it until its skin splits wide open and bone fragments flutter down.

Juleka puts her hand over her speeding heart, trying to regain her breath. Rose continues her offense once it's down just to ensure it stays that way. She continues until she's straining, viscus maroon splashing all over.  Juleka sits up, casting a glance over to the third Rose had slain a few meters away. Their box was on the ground, contents spilled. 

Movement in the distance immediately steals Juleka's attention. More of them are lumbering over. She springs up, grabs her shovel. 

"Rose!" 

Rose wheels to her, panting. Her eyes glint in understanding and she shoves the wrench back in her tool belt. Juleka likewise secures her shovel. 

"Go for the fence," Rose declares as she takes off sprinting. "I'll get our stuff!" 

Juleka nods and races for the fence. The handle of the shovel presses uncomfortably against her back and her ankle is starting to hurt where the undead grabbed it with unnatural strength. She flings herself at the fence and clambers over as fast as she can. Rose is strides behind her. 

Jumping, Rose throws the box over when she's close enough. Juleka does not catch it and it spills once more. She hurriedly retrieves it and gathers the contents in as Rose spiders up the fence, its metal net clinking against the poles. She hops over and together they flee as fast as they can.

The groans echo on the winds, spurring them like fire. 

 

* * *

 

"That was close," Rose murmurs when the day is done and they'd scrubbed off as much as they can.

There are still crescents of dead flesh crammed too far under Juleka's fingernails. That maroon leaves stains on their hands like blackberry juice with a scent hellishly opposite. Impossible to abolish completely. Juleka's inclined to believe that even if they had soap it wouldn't erase it all. 

Juleka nods in agreement and gazes Rose up and down. Juleka's in the back and Rose kneels between the driver's and passenger's seat, dressed in the oversized camo shirt. Even on Juleka it's large, but on her tiny Rose, it's almost like a dress. The sleeves were hacked off unevenly, too hot to tolerate in weather like this. They'll use them as rags or something later, for now one's serving as a bandage around Juleka's ankle. It was injured enough to be of concern and painful, a hand print of purple bruises swelling on the skin. Rose had wrapped it well enough to offer appreciated support. 

"You look better in that than I thought you would," Juleka compliments as she trails her eyes up and down Rose again. 

Rose smiles bashfully and shimmies her shoulders, the shirt slipping down to the side and exposing a stripe of skin. She bends over Juleka like a willow branch and Juleka leans back. Chapped lips skim the lobe of Juleka's ear and Rose's whisper drifts in as her knee nudges the hem of Juleka's camouflage up. 

"I want to make you feel better." 

Juleka spreads her legs for Rose's searching hand and parts her lips for the entrance of Rose's tongue. She craves the release, savors the love. She gingerly tugs the short blonde wisps above Rose's nape, feels the smiling curve of Rose's mouth bloom on the seam of her own. Rose twirls fingertips featherlight along Juleka's thigh. 

Heat dips in Juleka's belly at the teasing, pouring out to her own fingertips as Rose finally reaches her center. Rose's fingers trace along her entrance and tenderly push inside. Juleka shivers and puffs a breath that Rose sucks in. She rolls her thumb over the bud at the crown of her folds, round and round until Juleka's twitching. 

Rose knows how to pump her just right and Juleka could scream her pleasure if it wouldn't draw the undead's attention. She buries Rose's name under an open-mouthed kiss instead. Rose bobs her head and finishes her off, her nectar seeping into the carpet of the van. 

 

* * *

 

Seventeen cranes later, they move on. They keep the cranes and their other meager belongings in the couple of cardboard boxes they've collected since the start. Plastic bags would be more ideal but they're too noisy. They can't increase the risk they already have to take when they move on. 

"Do you think we'll see any more survivors?" Rose asks as they trek along an empty highway. 

"Maybe," says Juleka. 

Rose and Juleka had only seen one group of survivors before. It had consisted of three men far older than the two of them and they had refrained from approaching, both figuring it was safer that way. 

"I hope we find somewhere to bathe." 

"I hope we find more cereal." 

"I hate to say it, but I'd like to have a gun right now." 

"Me too." 

It's hours before another building that comes into view.

The one that eventually does is a restroom stop that reeks of shit and death. Naturally they can't afford to be picky. The sun is climbing down and the darker it gets, the more lively the undead get. The good news is, there's a vending machine. It's been tipped over but it's luckily not empty. Packages of stale chips are within reach when Rose's hand stretches past the retrieval hatch. 

The water is predictably not running, but there's still clear water in many of the toilets. Clear and clean are not synonyms but water is water. Lapping it from the toilet like a naughty dog isn't something beneath either of them. It tastes stagnant and it soothes Juleka's parched throat even so. 

They share a bag of corn chips that must be the tastiest thing she's had since the pizza dinner before the dawn of walking corpses. Even the cereal she and Rose had been going on was bland. Not that these aren't, three months post the _sell by_ date, but the flavor still lingers every other bite. 

"Let's make more cranes," Rose declares. "The paper towel looks sturdy enough." 

True. The paper towel here is the thick and scratchy brown kind. 

"Good idea."

Juleka stands up and heads to the men's restroom simply because it's closer. Rose stays where she is to watch the door just in case. Juleka removes the plastic dispenser from the wall and takes the entire roll. 

When she returns, Rose is putting the battery back in her phone. She stands up and walks around, holding it out as the screen lights up. Juleka sits and carefully rips off a suitable length of paper towel. 

"Is there any signal?" She asks as she makes the first fold. 

"Not over here." Rose shakes her phone and slinks over to the opposite end of the rest stop. "Not here either. Nope, no signal." 

"You tried," Juleka assures her as she sighs. 

Rose nods and takes the battery out of her phone again. She puts both down on the tile and settles beside Juleka, tearing off her own piece to fold a crane. Juleka still folds most of them but she's taught Rose well enough. Rose folds at a slower pace but folds neatly all the same. They haven't begun attaching them yet. It will be easier to transport them as they are until they have all one thousand to string together and put up. 

They fold and fold until their fingers cramp, long into the night. The paper towel is far from appropriate material but it's sufficient and there's a copious supply. They don't use all the paper towel for folding cranes, however. 

The soap in the rest area is unpleasant soap. It is sticky and gunky and smells more like medicine, far less aromatic than the floral washes Rose likes or the citrus ones Juleka prefers. It's crappy soap but it _is_ soap. They might never see soap again. 

They strip together in the woman's restroom, each with makeshift sponges of crumply paper towel balls. Dipping the paper towel balls in the toilet water they didn't drink, they wet their skin. They collect little puddles of the soap in their palms and help each other apply it like its lotion. Juleka doesn't like the way it makes her skin feel tacky, but she likes being encrusted in filth even less. 

They take turns washing each other's backs, scrubbing as hard as they can because the opportunity to wash again at all is obscure at best. When the paper towel sponges grow soggy and rip, they bundle up new ones. An old jelly jar is as good a shower head as any in a world where the dead stand to devour the living. 

There's enough toilet water left to rinse with, gray suds streaming down their bodies to pool in the grout. 

"How long do you want to stay here?" Rose asks as they sit on their clothes, faced with cracked mirrors that split their reflections into a dozen silvery slivers above bloody sinks. 

"Until the food runs out," Juleka says. "Unless you want to leave sooner?" 

Rose shakes her head. "I want to find signal. But this is a good place. There aren't as many of them out here and we'd make noise if we did leave carrying all of those chips with us." 

"What do you think we'll do when winter comes?" Juleka asks, tipping her head back and feeling a stray water droplet travel down her nape. 

The weather is still warm right now, so warm it's even close to comfortable to sit here naked. But summer is only going to last so much longer...

Rose pats Juleka's hand. "We'll be okay. We've already come so far." 

This is a point Juleka cannot dispute and so she leans sideways to rest her head on Rose's shoulder, shelving the worries for another day they're bound to conquer. 

 

* * *

 

 Juleka bolts across the field as fast as her legs can carry her, shovel swept over her shoulder like a claymore and icy perspiration slicking her calloused grip. Overgrown weeds whip against her legs as her roaring heartbeat crashes against her ribs like a high tide. 

"Rose!" She screeches wildly. 

The undead her girlfriend is struggling against briefly swerves its head in response to her yell. Rose takes her chance and surges back up, kicking away from the ghastly thing and grabbing for the crowbar. She swings as it attacks and Juleka does not see who the victor is as she scrambles to her own messy stop, swiveling her shovel with a force that sends chunks of putrified flesh flying off its face when the blade makes contact. 

It goes inanimate with a dull thud. Juleka turns to Rose, puffing like a draft animal. Her veins freeze. 

Rose sits up slowly, pain fresh and raw on her angelic features. She cradles her arm as blood pools in her lap, soaking through her tattered capris. It's been bitten down to the bone. A stretch of flesh ripped out by dead teeth openly displays her meat. Red muscle nestles bone as white as Rose's complexion has gone. 

Juleka drops to her knees, reaching for her. Rose slaps her hand away.

"Juleka. You have to go." 

Juleka saws her teeth into her lower lip as she violently whips her head from side to side. 

"Juleka—"

"I refuse! I can't leave you!" Juleka slumps heavily, palms digging into the dirt. "I'm staying with you." 

"Please don't stay." Tears slip from Rose's eyes as she shudders, grimacing in pain. "I don't want to kill you. In a few minutes I'm not going to be me anymore, I'll be this— this zombie! We both know you'd never hurt me, my Juleka. Even when I'm one of them. Please go. Go for me."

Juleka swallows heavily. Rose is outright sobbing now, letting out little gasps of hurt in between the gulping cries as her tears stream unbidden and snot dangles from her button nose. She is dying. She is desperate. And she is right, of course. She can't bear even the notion of hurting Juleka and Juleka wouldn't be able to raise her shovel even post the macabre transformation, when Rose will no longer be Rose but some utter monstrosity that defies nature. 

"I'm sorry," Juleka hiccups weakly. "I was so slow. If I was faster you'd be fine, Rose, I'm so sorry..." 

Painstakingly, Rose shifts her injured arm aside and curls her hand in Juleka's hair. She pulls her forward and kisses her with a mouth unpleasantly cold, the snot on her upper lip moistly rubbing off on Juleka's. Juleka grips her shoulders hard, trying to lick the farewell right off her tongue and make the kiss last forever. Rose denies her the fantasy, drawing back with a fractured smile. 

"Now be fast," Rose tells her. "Get up and run far away from me. Be fast and don't look back." 

Juleka stands. Shovel in hand, she turns. She runs fast and she does not look back.

 

* * *

 

Nine hundred ninety-nine paper cranes. 

Nine hundred ninety-nine cranes sit three blocks away in Juleka's current shelter. They're collected in three separate cardboard boxes and a canvas bag, guarded by a bag of stiff marshmallows and a can of sweet tea. One more crane and Juleka will thread them together with fishing line, stand on top that overturned filing cabinet and hang them from the ceiling. 

She might fold the final crane out of this label she saved from a jar of peanut butter she'd made last four months (or five? or six? or three?). If not that, she has an old envelope she could unfold and remold. Or she has blue cellophane which is prettier than both, if not ideal for folding. 

Sighing, Juleka glances outside the dinky bathroom window she couldn't fit out of even if she did want to fall too many stories to survive below. The sun burns cardinal red, painting the sky in swirls of lavender and a soft orange that teases her tongue with the memories of sweet sorbet. The clouds are long and soft like feathers, streaking the artistic expanse. 

Juleka's been watching the sky change since noon, from vibrant azure to this gaussian masterpiece worthy of any top grade photography blog. Outside the door the eerie groans and guttural moans continue. Dull thuds join the chorus when they bang themselves against the wood. Sometimes they stop banging and start scratching. 

They scratch like hares in the sand until their fingernails come off, plunking softly to the floor. Juleka can see them under the gap above the threshold, so fungus afflicted they're almost like small toadstools. 

She certainly prefers looking to the sky. She moves her gaze back to the window and stares beyond. Ironically enough, she spots a crane in flight, bound for the sun with its long legs swept straight behind it. 

Awed, Juleka watches it majestically flap through the air until it becomes too small and her sightline loses it after a crooked building. Her thousandth crane. 

But it doesn't count. 

Of course it doesn't count. This isn't one of Rose's fairytales. There is no happy ending. Soon the sun will set, night will fall, and those hellish undead will become stronger, faster, and wilder. They'll break down the door and Juleka will try to beat them back with her shovel but there's just too many, _so_ many while there's just one of her. They'll rip her to shreds and gorge on her flesh, infecting whatever's left of her with the fiendish virus. 

Because she has nothing to lose, Juleka slides the battery back into Rose's cellphone. She shakes it and pivots in a circle in the small bathroom, holding it up to the ceiling. 

To her amazement she gets three bars. Blinking, Juleka shuts the lid on the toilet and stands up on it. All five bars. 

"Look, Rose," she laughs blithely. "We've got signal!" 

Signal at last. Though there's only 2% charge left...

 


End file.
